Gunshots and coffee...

So, guess what woke me up this morning? Gunshots. Oh not from the local gangsters. Not a drive by shooting. Nope. It's deer season. Which in case you don't live in central Illinois is something of a holiday. Yep, kids are excused from school if they bring in their deer tag. Gas stations and restaurants put up signs...Welcome Deer Hunters! Open at 4 AM! Nope. I am not making this up.

My own intrepid hunters (Larry & Jethro) arose at the startingly early time of 2:30 AM. I grumbled, told them to be safe and promptly fell back to sleep. They were leaving at 3:30 to meet Larry's relatives at the boat dock in Hannibal to load the boats. Now, why they can't a~ hunt in our county of Adams, they have to hunt in the neighboring county of Pike and b~ load the boats on the other side of the river (Missouri) to hunt in Illinois are both totally beyond my comprehension. I think Larry tried to explain last night but I'm pretty sure my brain was bored and shut down and I only stared at him in complete glazed eye confusion. What I also do not understand is how anyone can motivate themselves to get up at o'dark thirty, layer on massive amounts of clothing (because it was coooolllddd here), top all this with a hideous blaze orange vest and hat (that hurt my eyes to look at), and then ride out in boats on the river (becoming even colder and possibly damp) in order to possibly shoot a poor defenseless creature. (Having said that, there are one or two persons I might be able to do those things in order to hunt...but we'll save my homicidal rage for another day). But off they went. Either they are doing well or they fell asleep or the truck broke down because they've now been gone for 11.5 hours and I haven't heard from them.

I prefer to spend my day in my warm cozy house. Hopefully, none of the hunters get to close. I told the deer they could all hide in my yard...

♥Gert

The Um. Gee. I Don't Want To Do This Test

So dear Hildi I did it. I went in for the stress test. Now, let me just say that this was totally my doctor's idea and I wasn't really on board from the start. I did ask around and was told that your didn't have to run. Because I was really worried about that. I mean, I was worried they wouldn't provide motivation. And everyone knows I don't run without motivation! Like a bear is chasing me, or there's one snickers bar left in the house and I must beat the kids to it. Something that makes it worthwhile. So I get to the cardio lab and Jethro and I sit in the waiting room filled with old people. I get us both a magazine. Me a Redbook and him a Parenting because, well you can't prepare to early, right? Finally, they call my name.

I follow the perky little nurse back to a room, that houses a gurney, a crash cart, a huge machine and a treadmill. She tells me to take everything off from the waist up and sign the consent form and she'll be back. So I disrobe and then read the consent form, which basically says that if your heart explodes while they're doing this test you can't sue them. Also you can't sue them if you fall off the treadmill. And you can't sue them for saying you're fat and out of shape. Basically, you just can't sue them.

So she comes back in and hooks up all these little electrode thingys and I start to wonder, between xrays, ekgs, this test, mammograms is there a medical person on the planet who hasn't had their hands on my boobs? Seriously, I think the medical community gets more access to my boobs then poor Larry. So after I'm all hooked up and she takes me blood pressure she tells me we have to wait for my doc. So she leaves again. And I wonder around the room (as far as my wires let me) because I'm bored. Then she comes back in and says he's on his way. Get on the treadmill. So I hop up there and she asks if I've ever been on a treadmill before. I say yes, I love treadmills. I've been trying to get our parents to give me theirs for years but they are very busy using it to hang clothes on. The treadmill is going at a nice easy pace and I think. huh. maybe this won't be so bad. WRONG! The doctor comes in and I'm all

Me: Haha. We started this party without you.

Dr: *smile* well that's good. Okay, I want to get your heart rate up to 168 so I'm going to increase the speed and altitude in 5 seconds. Okay? * Is that a real question? Really? Do I get to say no here?*

Me: Bring it on doc. *He then increases the speed and incline and I start to huff a little. Asthma anyone?*

Dr: Now if your chest starts hurting or you can't breathe or you just can't go on, let me know. *Yeah right. I'm not a wuss. I continue huffing along*

Dr: Okay, I'm going to increase you again. How are you doing?

Me: I stopped having fun about 5 minutes ago.

Dr: You've only been on the treadmill for 3 minutes.

Me: Seriously? Well if feels like 5! *speed increases. I'm really huffing and puffing and my calves are tightened up like bowling balls. If I wasn't so committed to not wussing out, I'd have totally told him to stop. At home, I'd have been like "okay, I'm done". Damn stubborn pride*

Dr.: Okay, well we got your heart rate up past where I wanted. I'm going to stop the machine now. But it slows gradually so don't stop walking.

Me: What? You don't want to see me shoot off of here like a human projectile?

Dr: *totally straight face* I've seen that happen. It's not pretty.

Me: huff, puff, huff, puff.

Dr.: So how do you feel? Does your chest hurt?

Me: Um. No. It's a little heavy and hard to breathe but I think that's just asthma.

Dr.: Well your heart looks fine, your BP's great. I think it's just muscle pain from the Fibromyalgia. The heart is a muscle after all.

Me: Fabulous. That's why my calves feel like rocks now too.

Dr.: I think you should start walking though. Twenty minutes three times a week.

I'm pretty sure that was him calling me fat. And out of shape. But I signed the paper so I can't sue. I think they should change the name of the test though. Instead of "Stess Test" they should call it "The Let's See How Glaringly Out of Shape You Are Test". The nurse did say that they get the incline a lot higher then most people ever do on their own. So while I wasn't really running, it was like I was walking up a mountain as fast as I could. It sucked. So I went to the mexican restaurant and had Flan. Because Flan cures everything. Including wounded pride.

♥Gert

Why this is not the funny post I intended. Or why it's all Larry's fault.

So the previous post was deleted. It was funny too. But apparently Larry could get into trouble. I told him next time he does something he shouldn't, he should probably give me strict instructions on not blogging it. The conversation went much like this:

Me: so that one thing, that was totally okay, right?

Larry: No, I didn't exactly go about it right. I should have made a call first and gotten permission beforehand. Not after the fact.

Me: Um. So you could possibly get in trouble if someone say blogged about it for the whole world to see?

Larry: YOU WHAT??!

Me: I think you need to learn to be a little clearer about what you don't want me to blog.

Larry: Well why would you blog that anyway?

Me: Duh, because that sh*t was funny!! And my readers like the funny!! They deserve the funny!!

Jethro: Um...mom? You know you're not like some investigative journalist delivering the unvarnished truth to your readers, right? You're just a blogger.

Me: *stamping my foot and throwing my hands up in the air* I get no respect!

Me: And frankly Larry, I'm a little disturbed by your utter lack of conscience and blatant disregard for the law. Next time, please mention that before I blog. I'll go delete it so you don't get arrested or anything but I.Am.Not.Happy.

Larry: I wouldn't get arrested. A fine, maybe. I'm sorry I screwed up your post.

Me: *sniffing and walking off* whatever.

And so...you should totally blame Larry for this not being the incredibly funny post about him looking like Elmer Fudd. Because it's all his fault.

♥Gert

So I found Hildi!!

I know you all were worried, because I totally was! Well it turns out that once again, illness rears it's ugly head! Poor little Patience caught a nasty bug that aggravated her asthma and she ended up in the hospital. Poor Patience! And poor Hildi!! But Patience is much recovered and Hildi has managed to get some sleep. But not enough to blog yet. She also now has the added (but much welcome) distraction of my parents visiting. So we will hopefully have the pleasure of her blogging again next week. To fill in the time...

So on Wednesday, I finally convinced Jethro to let me take him to the doctor. He'd been coughing for two weeks solid and I was ready to kill him, I mean concerned for him. He hadn't been running a fever really and other than the cough and a headache, didn't feel too badly. But it was time. His cough had turned into that cough. What is known at my house as the "pneumonia" cough. And sadly, we've had it enough at our house that even Captain Oblivious, otherwise known as Larry, can recognize it. Sunday he was all "are you ever going to take that kid to the doctor? Sounds like he has pneumonia." Thank you Larry for your brilliant observation. I know!! But convincing a sixteen year old boy to go to the doctor when he doesn't feel bad is like trying to convince a chicken to lay a golden egg. It's a lesson in futility. Finally I lured him in with promise of lunch at Village Inn (he can always be bribed with food!). So Wednesday rolls around and we head to the clinic in town.

The place is packed. Seriously, we had to park forever away. But as we're walking down the sidewalk, this little old guy hears Jethro coughing (I do have to say it sounds like he has Ebola, or heaven forbid, Swine Flu). Apparently, little old dude thinks so too, because he begins to hurry toward the door, looking back over his shoulder at us the whole time. Desperately trying to avoid coming close to Jethro. I whisper to Jethro, who's looking down and missing the whole thing, "that guy thinks you have swine flu...he's trying to get away from you." Jethro looks up, and us being us, we start moving faster. Little old dude increases his pace and I start giggling. The kicker? He has to pass right by a little kid with a face mask on, who obviously really does have swine flu. Hahaha.

Once inside, we check in and Jethro begins trying not to cough because he doesn't want them to make him wear a face mask. Although, every time he does cough, people stare. My my my, what a panic this pandemic has caused. Well, I'm up first for the doctor. Normal routine visit, or so I thought. I get in and the nurse does her thing and lo and behold! His scale says I've lost 7 pounds! Now, I'm pretty sure his scale is off because I don't think that's true, but I keep my mouth shut because I'm basking in the praise. "Great job Gert!". Riiiiggghhht. Like I've done anything different lately. Except maybe get so caught up in writing my blog that I miss a meal. That actually does happen, much to Jethro's dismay. Then we discuss medication and he adds another one. Joy. I feel like a pharmacy. Then I mention the chest pains I had that freaked the kids out. He asks if I went to the ER. Um...no...I was too tired. I just went home to bed. He sighs and shakes his head. Then asks more questions. I tell him we were out running errands all day that day and my chest starting hurting. Yes, sitting down and resting made it go away. So he says "so exercise makes it worse" and I say "um, well I wouldn't call what I do exercise, but yes, being busy makes it worse." So now I have to have a stress test on Wednesday. I'm freakin thrilled.

Then we go down to Jethro's doctor. Jethro and his doctor have a unique relationship. They give each other loads of crap constantly. It's really a battle to see who can one up the other. She comes into the office and it goes like this~

Dr.: Oh. It's you.

Jethro: Yep. Lucky you.

Dr.: (reading chart) cough, congestion, headache times two weeks. wow. same old stuff. so boring. don't you ever want to be original. Like maybe your big toe could rot and fall off.

Jethro: I like my toes.

Dr.: Fine, well I'm going to have to take gallons of blood today.

Jethro: That's cool. I'm a cutter so it really doesn't bother me. *the Dr. starts giggling* Besides it gives me a chance to steal some dirty needles for my heroin habit.

Dr.: *recovering* Oh. Well my bin looks pretty full. Want me to get the key and pop it open and you can have all you want?

Jethro: that'd be sweet.

They continue in this manner. He hops on the table, she examines him, he starts laughing when she tries to feel his lymph nodes (because he is waaaay ticklish). Finally she sighs loudly and says "well we could do a blood test, but we all know he's got walking pneumonia. Again." So she prescribes the antibiotic and cough syrup and off we go. To Village Inn of course. Because even sick, he has the appetite of a horse. Besides, it was free slice Wednesday!!

swine flu & sarcasm,
♥Gert

PS- Happy Halloween!

Hildi's gone AWOL..

Seriously Hildi, where the heck are you? You haven't even answered texts lately. I know better then to call because you don't pick up unless you think it's an emergency. If I thought Jerome had the stomach for it, I might be worried he'd hacked you to pieces and hid you in the crawlspace.

Anywho, I'm taking your turn again because I need to vent. Big time. After cleaning up my house yet again, I am fed up. So this conversation ensues...

Me: So, I realize that because I do not work outside the home, the house is my responsibility. However, I'm pretty sure that does not give you or the boys leave to become the messiest people on the planet. I checked the fine print of the contract. And if you added a codicil you have to inform my lawyer and he swears to have no knowledge of one so I don't know what you're thinking but it won't hold up in court.

Larry: laughing (at me I'm sure). I don't think I'm the messiest person on the planet.

Me: Really? Really? Are you kidding me? You set the empty kool-aid pitcher on the counter by the dishpan and it had red kool-aid all over the bottom. I just spent twenty minutes scrubbing the stain off the counter. Not to mention that the dishpan was full of un-rinsed dishes (I hate un-rinsed dishes). Why? Why?

Larry: Um. Because I'm a moron? (now the first time he used this defense, I have to admit it was pretty funny and I laughed. And agreed with him, because he said it not me.)

Me: That excuse is really wearing thin. Even morons can learn. And oddly enough, I firmly believe we've had this conversation before. And it seems to do no good whatsoever. So really, I don't know why I'm wasting my breath.

Larry: Ummm. (Yeah, I know he has no clue what to say here.) Sorry?

Me: Whatever. But just so you know...I'm not happy. And all this cleaning and picking up after you and the boys is seriously cutting into all my writing time.

Larry: Well, it would be different if you were getting paid for that writing.

Me: Really? And how would it be different? Hmmmm? Would you be less messy? No. I think not. The only way it would be different is maybe I could afford a maid.

Larry: Of course when you right a blockbuster best seller and become rich and famous you'll be able to afford a maid.

Me: You know, I don't even care if I'm rich and famous anymore. I'd settle for published and able to pay the bills. My dreams have seriously tanked. It's like for every year I get older, my dreams get closer to the floor. Kind of like my boobs.

At which point he actually chuckled out loud. In case you don't read my other blog, this is unusual. Mostly anymore he just looks at me like I've lost my mind. Unfortunately, the dream thing is true. They tell you to reach for the stars but right now I'd settle for the top shelf. *sigh*

there's laundry calling my name,
♥Gert

And that's the last time we let him watch a scary movie before bed!

So Hildi, I'm taking your turn again. I know you've had your hands full with Prudence being sick and cheer clinic and all. But I have a funny story to tell...

So the other night, Tuesday to be exact, the kids and I rented movies and of course us being us, and it being October we rented scary movies. And we decided to watch Trick or Treat first. It was okay. Not tremendously scary. A few jumps. A decent storyline and very watchable. There was this little pumpkin headed demon child that ran around in orange footie-pajamas with a piece of burlap tied around it's head like a sack and a face drawn on it. His name was Sam. He was an evil little guy.

Well, as a rule, Larry doesn't join us in the family room because he says the couch is uncomfortable and there's just the one so we're all kind of piled on top of each other or someone stretches out on the floor. And he can take or leave scary movies. Plus Tuesday is the one night he actually has a show on that he tries to keep up with. But after his show he joined us. The movie was about half way through so I caught him up to speed. We finished the show and Jethro headed down to the Batcave. Larry said he was going to bed. How the man manages to go to bed and fall asleep with the light on and the door open in our house never ceases to amaze me. But he does it. Well Lulu and Oscar and I stayed up talking for awhile and then Oscar headed downstairs to his room and Lulu to hers.

I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Now of course the master bath is right off the master bedroom. The bathroom door is like 3 feet from where Larry is laying. When I went to flush the toilet, it started to fill up instead of going down. I threw open the door to ask Larry to get the plunger when the water actually overflowed!! Now this has never happened to me before and since the bathroom is carpeted, I start going "sh*t, sh*t, sh*t" quite loudly!!

Larry wakes up...and jumps out of bed into full defense stance. Now, mind you, he was a wrestler so it's a wrestler's stance. Feet firmly planted shoulders width apart...knees slightly bent...arms out and rounded...looking around going "What? Where is he?!" The poor man is half awake and his eyes are completely bloodshot. And his underwear is hanging in a precariously saggy manner. I start laughing hysterically. "What are you going to save me from?! The toilet??" Lulu is of course, also laughing in her room. "Maybe he thought Sam was after you! You shouldn't let Daddy watch scary movies anymore!" By this time, he's straightened from attack stance, hitched up the baggy undies and is staring at me blearily. By now, I've run to the hall bath, grabbed towels and searched frantically for the plunger.

Me: "Where the hell is the plunger?"(in a not nice manner because I'm pissed about the toilet).

Him: In the hall bathroom?

Me: um. no. been there.

So he stumbles off. About ten minutes later he's back plunger in hand. "It was downstairs." I send him back to bed and he's instantly asleep. If he ever really fully woke up. I plunge the toilet, avert the crisis and soak up the water.

The next morning I'm describing the scene to Jethro, complete with my interpretation of his Dad's stance. He says "ah. that explains it. I was laying in bed when I heard thump thump thumpitythumpitythumpitythump. Thump thump thump. Flick. Then thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump. That's dad starting down the stairs, falling, then going back up the stairs, flicking on the light switch and coming down. Oscar and I were rolling." Poor guy. No more horror flicks before bed. But at least I know he's ready to take on all evil-doers, toilets too.


plungers and demon children,
♥Gert

So about the Boogeyman...

Um, Hildi dear, it was your turn. Again. But because I'm a good sister, I'll pick up the slack. You owe me. And I think the count is up to like 9,673,214 and 1/2. No, I won't forget the 1/2.

Before I get to the Boogeyman (and we are going to get there), I have to point out that I'm totally unsure how Google decides which ads to place on your blog. Because I seriously understand the Halloween ones, but weddings? Not sure how that fits in. And dementia care? I'm beginning to wonder if they are insinuating...hmmm. And seriously, at the top of the page was an ad for a scarecrow sprinkler!!! Obviously, they didn't read my little rant about how scarecrows are evil and want to make you run people over and take over your soul. Because how could they ever begin to think that after I exposed scarecrows like that anyone would ever buy a freakin scarecrow sprinkler??! Are they daft?

But on to the Boogeyman. Yeah. We're going to have to add him to the list of "things Gert is irrationally afraid of". Big deal. It's such a long list, what's one more. I have always been afraid of the Boogeyman (notice how his name is capitalized? Yeah, it's because he's that bad!). Hated the dark place under the bed. No foot or hand ever hung over. And I have been known to leap a good three feet onto the bed in order to avoid his grasping hands. (But not in at least three months). Seriously, remember that movie Poltergeist? It came out when I was like 12 and Hildi was 5. She slept in my bed for months. Remember how that creepy clown doll (yes, also on the list...clowns) came out from under the bed?! Way to give a visual to my nightmares. And I still absolutely cannot sleep without the closet doors all firmly shut. Because that way the Boogeyman can't get you. Or at least you have warning when you hear the door open.

So they make a movie about the Boogeyman. And really, it was just okay. Not a big fan of it actually. But last night on TV...a sequel. Boogeyman 2. And of course I stayed up to watch it. And surprisingly, it was better then the original (how often does that happen?). I mean it wasn't in league with 30 Days of Night or The Exorcist or Rosemary's Baby. But it was watchable and had a few jumps.

But at one point, our heroine is trying to outwit the Boogeyman (as if!) and she's sneaking away from him between two rows of records. And I'm watching her tread quietly and duck and tiptoe and it suddenly occurs to me that I'm screwed. If I ever have to try to sneak away from the Boogeyman, I might as well give up. Because at some point during my "sneaking", at least one of my joints is going to pop loudly. And heaven help me if I have to duck, because my knees are going to do that disgusting creaking/grinding noise they make and give me away. So my best bet? Yep. Confrontation. I'm just going to go up to him and talk my way out of it...

Me: Alright, let's stop playing around here. We both know I can't sneak away from you. I can't outrun you. And I sure as hell can't overpower you I mean you have like super strength or whatever and you're invincible.

BM: Invisible?

Me: Um. No. Invincible. I can't kill you. Wait! Can I?

BM: Of course not. Don't you keep up. I'm the Boogeyman.

Me: Hmmm. Darn. There for a minute...well ok, nevermind. Go ahead.

BM: Go ahead and what?

Me: Kill me. Get it over with. C'mon. You're wasting darkness here.

BM: (completely taken aback) You're just going to give up?

Me: Yep. We've been through this. Nothing I can do. You win. I give up. Hah! Not so much fun is it, now? All the fun's in the chase, huh? Well too bad mister! You didn't really think terrorizing me through did you? Whoopee do...you got the old chubby chick. That's not much for bragging rights. What are you gonna do when you're sitting around with your monster friends talking about tonight's kills, huh? They're gonna be all, last night I took down this 6'5" 350 pound football player. Made him scream like a schoolgirl. Put up a helluva fight, but I won in the end. Or last night I chased this six year old all around her house like we were playing hide and seek. Just like a cat playing with a mouse. She was a smart cookie, but I got her in the end. But you. Nope. What have you got? Well, I went to this chicks house and crept out of the closet and she gave up. Makes you look lame, dude. They're gonna laugh. What kind of self-respecting Boogeyman are you? Geez, go pick on somebody who's not half-crippled and on to you. Wuss.

BM: Shut your trap woman! I'm outta here. stalks angrily back into closet

Me: Don't you take that tone of voice with me mister! And no slamming doors! For the love of Pete! Where have all the good monsters gone?

Oh yeah...their sitting outside my neighbors house, waving at me!!!

happy nightmares,
♥Gert